


Sing It Again

by Jenny_Jensen



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Random - Freeform, Song fic, bughead - Freeform, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:54:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21785527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenny_Jensen/pseuds/Jenny_Jensen
Summary: 20 random songfics shuffling through my ITunes rotation every morning. Happy endings guaranteed.
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones
Comments: 3
Kudos: 35





	1. Falls On Me

* * *

**1\. Falls On Me: Fuel**

* * *

**_The darkness in my veins_ **

**_I never could explain_ **

**_And I wonder if you ever see_ **

**_Will you still believe?_ **

* * *

He’s the first person she calls as she watches her father being loaded into the ambulance, the only evidence that he, not her, is the bad guy, the cuffs around both wrists, holding him to the stretcher.

She hit him. She bloodied his face, and even though she knows he deserved it, her nails inch further into her palms.

Alice is still shaken up, and mother of the year is eagerly selling her story to the cops. She spins the tale her way, Hal’s confession is true, and maybe the look in her eyes when she first swung at him is too, but his hands had been wrapped around her throat, what else could she have done, let her mother, even though Alice has never been much of a mother, die?

An officer glances at her, somewhat sympathetically, and mumbles something about _damage_ and _PTSD_. Archie wanders over, alarmed by the flashing lights, grief washing across his face as he’s come to understand, maybe from ease dropping, what has happened.

When Alice nods in agreement, and the words _Sisters of Quiet Mercy_ leaves her mouth, Archie grabs her wrist, pulling her further down the drive like he can protect her.

“Betty,” he reaches out, as if to embrace her, but she shrinks away. “Betty, what can I do?”

She opens her mouth, wants to tell him something, anything. Nothing comes out.

He sees blood trickling from her palms, darker than his copper colored hair, jaw falling. “Betty...”

Her phone is still in her jacket pocket.

She grabs for it, blindly thumbing her passcode in, finding _his_ name at the top of her ‘Recent Calls.’

He answers on the first ring, just like always.

“Betts?”

“J-Jug...” is all she manages to choke out.

She wonders if he can hear the sirens in the background as Sheriff Keller finally pulls away to follow the ambulance, but as always, he’s the calming presence to her constantly brewing panic, her inner storm.

“I’m coming,” Jughead promises, and she hears the click of a door, boots scuffing in the dirty ground surrounding his trailer. “I’m on my way baby.”

“Is that Jug?” Archie asks from behind her.

“Are you with Archie?” He demands, and though he can’t see her nod, he still knows she did. “Stay with him, I’ll be there soon.”

He hangs up just as the sound of a motorcycle engine fills her ears.

* * *

“Betty,”

She runs to him, _runs_ , and he catches her, hands encircling her arms, holding her back as his eyes rake over her trembling body from head to toe.

“What?” He demands, as she nearly falls to her knees. He forces her back up, lifting her gaze to his with a single finger beneath her chin. “What the hell happened to you?”

“Jug,” Archie starts towards him.

“What happened?” Jughead asks. “Why is my girlfriend so fucking terrified, she can’t tell me what’s wrong?”

“Her dad was arrested,”

“What?” His attention is back on her in an instant. “Why?”

He finally notices the blood on her hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

Raking a hand through his hair, he becomes exactly what she needs.

“Stand behind me,” Jughead directs. “hands in my pockets, and no squeezing, Elizabeth.”

Betty hurries to comply, arms wrapping around his torso as she slides her hands into the pockets of his Serpent jacket. His hands enclose around hers from the outside, holding her there, just in case.

She can feel Archie’s eyes burning questioning holes into her past her boyfriend’s rigid body, but he will never understand. No one knows just how often Jughead protects her, that’s he’s the only one who can conceal the darkness running through her veins.

“Why was he arrested?” Jughead questions, glancing back at her. “Did he hurt you, Betts?”

“Jug, he’s-”

“The Black Hood,” Betty whimpers. “Juggie... my dad is the Black Hood.”

“Fuck,” he says again, grip on her hands tightening.

“And...”

“What, Arch? Fuckin’ tell me.”

“Her mom said something about sending her to the-”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jughead grits out, moving her to stand in front of him. “You’re not going anywhere near that place and you’re not going home tonight. Or ever again.”

Her jaw falls, part of her wanting to protest. She’s only sixteen, months shy of her seventeenth birthday, and after the police reports are filed, she doubts a judge will find her suitable enough to live on her own.

Jughead might live with his father, might live by his rules but he’s still an emancipated minor, free to come and go as he pleases.

“Juggie...”

 _“Elizabeth,”_ somehow Alice’s tone is crystal and sharp amongst the other noise. “come inside.”

Two sets of hands grasp her arms, stopping her in her tracks.

“Archie,” her mother sneers. “Jughead, how... nice of you to visit in our _hour of need_ , but Betty is tired, she needs her... rest.”

“If I let her step foot in that house, you’ll try to see to it that I never see her again,” Jughead notices her fingers inching inwards again and forces her hands back into his pockets, a single arm locking around her to hold her in place.

“Correct,” Alice confesses. “and she’d be better off for it.”

“You’re not fucking sending her to that corrupt group home, Mrs. Cooper.”

“What I do with _my_ daughter is none of your concern-”

 _“Your daughter_ is _my girlfriend_ ,” he hisses, fingers circling her back in apology for the harsh tone. “someday she’ll be my wife.”

She snorts. “You know what they say about young love...”

Jughead snorts. “This time it _will_ last, Mrs. Cooper, because Betty and I are in it for the long haul.”

He believes that. He wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t a promise he didn’t intend to keep.

And it’s in that moment that she realizes she believes it too. She always has and she always will. Jughead is her person. For her, he’s it.

“Enough,” her mother snaps her fingers expectantly. “Elizabeth, come inside and go to bed. I’ll be calling the Sisters first thing in the morning.”

“We’re leaving,” Jughead tells her, taking a step towards his parked bike. “Betts, c’mon, I’ll keep you safe.”

She wholeheartedly believes him.

_“Elizabeth...”_

“Oh shut up,” Archie bites out. She’s almost forgotten he’s there.

“I hardly see how this is any of your business, Archie-”

“Oh _shut up mom,”_ she hears herself echo.

And then she’s tearing away from Jughead, spinning to face her mother.

Her cuts are deep, and she holds them out for Alice to see, hoping for some kind of reaction, good or bad, but she remains staring straight ahead, unmoved.

She doesn’t care. She never has and she never will.

“Have you even asked Betty what she wants?” Archie says, softly from behind her.

Alice shrugs. “I don’t need to ask her anything. I know my daughter, Archie, I already know what she wants. She doesn’t want to be like the _monster_ that impregnated me with her. She wants to be good, safe even. She doesn’t want to end up like her father.”

“She won’t,” Jughead catches her hands, prying her fingers from her palms, covering them with his own. “because lucky for her, she isn’t like him, and she isn’t like you either, Mrs. Cooper. She’s _good_. She’s so much better than you and your husband and this whole stupid town.”

It’s not true, it can’t be, because she is the daughter of Hal and Alice Cooper. Their blood runs through her veins. She has to be like them, doesn’t she?

But Jughead is looking at her in an entirely new light, like there’s a world, a life without the darkness she’s worked so hard to hide, without serial killer fathers and overbearing but absentee mothers.

He can give her that. He can give her everything, and if there’s one thing she knows about her boyfriend, it’s that he will.

“Goodbye mom,” she whispers, turning back into the safety net of Jughead’s embrace.

Her hands slide into the pockets of his jacket again, carefully unclenching.

“Elizabeth, come back here _now.”_ Alice shouts, but Jughead is already pulling her towards his bike. “If you leave now, don’t bother coming back to retrieve any of your belongings.”

Betty laughs. It’s a strange sound, somewhere between genuine laughter and a shattering sob. She lets him put her helmet on her head, fastening it for her because she doesn’t quite trust herself enough to let go of him just yet.

“I don’t need it,” Betty calls over her shoulder, as he starts the bike. “I don’t need any of it and... I don’t need you.”

Jughead glances back at her with a careful grin. Nodding to Archie, he lurches forward and disappears into the night.

* * *

“Hold still,”

_“Ouch Juggie,”_

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, worry lines creasing his forehead. “you dug so deep baby. I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”

She bites her lip, looking down at the frayed rug in the bathroom. “You couldn’t have stopped it.”

“I will,” Jughead vows, kissing her hair. “Think you can start reaching for my hands first, Betts?”

She wants to.

“Can we work on it?” Betty asks instead.

“Yeah baby,” he pulls her from the counter, out of the bathroom, into the living room, settling on the couch with her on his lap. “we can work on it.”

She lays her palms out flat and he takes the hint, interlacing their fingers, careful not to brush the bandages wrapped around them.

Betty laughs sadly, head falling heavily against his shoulder. “Oh Juggie, what are we gonna do?”

“Well,” Jughead says, after a moment. “Toni should be here in a few minutes with some takeout from Pop’s, a Vanilla milkshake and a whole order of fries, your favorite, baby, and after we eat, I figured we would watch a movie on my laptop, Quentin Tarantino of course, and then we can go to bed and...”

He peppers kisses to her neck.

_“Not sleep for a little while.”_

She giggles at the sensation of his lips against her skin. “Jug, be serious.”

“Buzzkill,” Jughead teases, nuzzling his nose against hers in the way he knows she loves. “I don’t know Betts, I wish I had an answer for you, but I don’t. I do know that I’m never letting you step foot into your mother’s house again.”

“Thank you,” Betty whispers.

He nods.

“And Betts?”

“Yeah Juggie?”

“No matter what,” he kisses both of her bandaged palms. “no matter where we are, or what we’re doing, I’ve got you, okay? I’ve always got you.”

_He has her._

Betty settles back against him with a small smile. She doesn’t know what they’ll do either, she has no clothes that aren’t his, no money to her name, no home to call her own. Maybe she can move in with Veronica, maybe she and Jughead can get their own apartment for dirt cheep in the city after graduation while they apply for scholarships to pay for school. She’ll even work three jobs if it means Jughead finally can publish his first novel. She wants this, wants to reach for him first when she’s ready to hurt herself, wants to spend the rest of her life with him, and she knows he’s right, no matter where they go from here, they’re in this together.

He has her, and she knows that he doesn’t plan on letting her go any time soon.

She closes her hands around his in a silent promise. She’ll reach for him first. One day, she will.


	2. I'm With You

* * *

**2\. I’m With You: Avril Lavigne**

* * *

**_I'm looking for a place_ **

**_I'm searching for a face_ **

**_Is anybody here I know?_ **

* * *

“Betty?” He yells, sounding frustrated. “Betty!”

Slowly, she stands, brushing leaves and dead blades of grass from the back of her borrowed dress, making a mental note to get it dry cleaned before she returns it to Veronica’s vast wardrobe. The walk in closet is larger than her bedroom in the loft above the Whyte Wyrm she’s been sharing with Jughead for the last eight months.

“H-Hey Jug,” she manages, teeth chattering.

He stops, spins round to face her, stalks towards her, looking angry.

“What the fuck?” Jughead demands, shrugging out of his leather jacket, wrapping it around her before he grabs her by the shoulders, shaking her gently. “What the hell are you doing out here Betty? _Without your fucking jacket.”_

“Jug, I...” Betty takes a step back from him, accepting the jacket eagerly. He’s always been good at providing warmth, like it radiates off of him. He’s never cold, even now, standing there in one of his signature _S_ t-shirts, a flannel knotted around his hips that he’s making a point not to put on, simply because he’s a boy and boys can be dumb. “I thought you had a meeting tonight.”

It’s the only time he refuses to let her be around the rest of the gang, insisting that she stay in the apartment or go to her favorite café to write, to edit his own work if she feels she has nothing to say until he comes to pick her up a few hours later, despite the Wyrm being less than a mile away. He’s too protective sometimes, like now, with the way he’s looking at her, waiting up on the days she grabs a drink with Kevin, Archie and Veronica on their monthly visits back to Riverdale with the lamp on, not going to bed till he knows she’s safe at home, in the room right across from his.

“Fuck the meeting,” he grits out. “you were supposed to be back before it started. I told you, it’s not-”

“Not safe,” she snorts. “yeah Jug, you told me, ten billion times. It’s not safe for me to go to the café tonight, blah, blah, _blah._ What you haven’t told me _why_ I couldn’t go tonight, why my _date_ had to bring me home by 10:00 when the reservations weren’t until 9:00. What are you, my father?”

Her words sting, and just not for him.

His eyes flash in anger, and he descends on her again, grabbing her by the arm, pulling her after him. She knows he’s ready to drag her to the bike, put her on the back of it like she doesn’t weigh a thing and part of her wants to let him, let him take care of her like he has been since the day her mother gave her college fund to the farm, sold the house and disappeared without another word, the day he and Sweet Pea showed up with Fangs in his beat up truck and moved her belongings into his new loft. She hadn’t asked him to do anything, hadn’t even told him that her mother was losing her mind, he’d still intervened and insisted.

He’s a good roommate, makes sure to keep the toilet seat down, cooks her breakfast three times a week, keeps the apartment spotless, but living with him has its downsides too. He’s too protective, controlling in a way that she doesn’t really mind, though she’s still allowed to be annoyed about it when she wants to be.

She yanks her arm back with a surprising amount of force, stumbling away from him. “Jug.”

“No Betts,” he snarks, slowly turning to face her. “I’m not your fucking father.”

Betty bites her lip.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly. “I didn’t mean that.”

He waves her apology away. “Whatever. What are you doing here? Why didn’t that douche bring you home?”

Her eyes water.

“Betts?”

He sounds concerned now, taking a small step towards her.

“I ran away from him,” Betty whispers. “This was the first place I could think of.”

“Ran...” Jughead towers over her, eyes scanning her face. “What the hell Betty, did he do something to you?”

She thinks about the good night kiss, his hands trying to venture further, and the way she hit him, exactly as Jughead and Archie taught her to do when she was just six. The way he yelled as she took off in the direction of Sweet Water River, praying he wouldn’t follow her.

“Betty,”

“N-Nothing,” she stutters. “it’s nothing Jug, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” Jughead challenges. “you know that? Did he put his hands on you Betty? Tell me.”

“I...”

“Betty, I remember his name, I can go ask him myself if you’re gonna lie to me.”

“He tried,” Betty confesses, because she can’t stand the idea of him tracking anyone down, no matter if they deserve it or not, to get his “answers.” He’s not invincible, he could get hurt and she will never be able to live with himself if he gets hurt. “He did try, Jug, but I hit him.”

He’s angry, livid at the thought of anyone trying to hurt _her_ , but a grin still spreads slowly across his face.

“Just like we taught you,” he says. “that’s my girl.”

Betty beams at him, cheeks burning. “Your girl?”

“Yeah,” Jughead replies, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “my girl.”

He leans forward, and for a second, she thinks he might kiss her. Her face falls in visible disappointment when he merely adjusts his huge jacket against her shoulders, recovering it from where’s fallen slightly, before bringing his hand up to cradle her face.

“Are you okay Betts?” He asks, no longer sounding mad but concerned.

Tears fill her eyes.

She’s safe now, here with him, without that asshole that didn’t want to take _no_ for an answer. All the adrenaline leaves her body at once and she slumps forward into his waiting arms.

“Hey,” Jughead holds her up easily. “it’s okay baby, I’ve got you.”

His hand draws circles across her back, under his jacket, while his fingers thread into her hair at the base of her neck. She doesn’t sob, merely clings to him, grateful for his close proximity.

“What can I do Betts?”

He’s always so ready to give, never to take, and in that moment, after years of dancing around her feelings, unwilling to throw their near lifelong friendship away, Betty truly decides that she loves him.

“What can I do?” He repeats. “Tell me baby, I’ll do anything, just tell me what you need.”

Bravely, she meets his gaze.

“You,” she whispers. “I need you, Juggie. Help me forget, please?”

His hands are on her hips, mouth covering her own before she can finish her sentence, swallowing her surprised gasp. They kiss for what seems like hours and minutes just the same. Their tongues battle battle for dominance, but she lets him win eventually, and his lips move to her neck, appreciatively bruising her pale skin.

Betty pants against him.

“Fuck,” Jughead mumbles, finally pulling away. His hand finds hers, fingers wrapping around them, and he tugs her further into the woods, no doubt in the direction his bike is parked. “I want this Betts, I want _you_ , I’ve always wanted you, but this isn’t happening. Not in the middle of Fox Forrest.”

The bike is parked less than thirty yards away.

“Let me take you home,” he pleads. “let me do this right.”

Betty giggles, accepting the spare helmet that has really become her own.

“You can have me Juggie,” she tells him, arms wrapping around him from behind. “you’ve always had me, in case you didn’t know. I want this too, I want everything.”

Betty leans forward, lips close to his ear.

“I’m with you,” she says. “every step of the way.”


End file.
